


the wolf's heart

by zxx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime - Freeform, F/M, dont look at me, i just had this ridiculous idea and had to go with it, sansa talks to jaime about brienne and gives him a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxx/pseuds/zxx
Summary: Sansa wants Brienne to be happy, so she comes to Jaime and asks him for one last promise.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	the wolf's heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small and cheesy braime thing, don't mind me. I always liked to imagine Sansa forgave Jaime after all and they could be somewhat friendly.

Jaime is sitting by the fireplace, staring into the flames. It's dark outside already, and there's soft snow everywhere. Silent and plush. He still doesn't like it. He grew up with his skin kissed by the sun, after all. And frankly? Sometimes he still misses the south; Winterfell is one gloomy place. Cold, gloomy and full of grumpy Stark men that don't like him.

And yet he stays. He wanders around the castle, he tends to his wounds. He feasts with others. He takes walks in the snow, trains with squires and even visits the blacksmith to help sometimes, even though he seems to absolutely despise Jaime, giving him a suspicious glance now a then. For which he cannot blame him, after all. 

But most of all, he stays for her. His tall, forever honorable knight. Knight of his own making, he thinks, smiling a little at the flames. He doesn't know what he's doing here, exactly; Lady Stark allowed him to stay (because one tall knight asked her to), so he stays. And whatever is going on here, he definitely prefers it to running, hiding and fighting, which he is very, _very_ tired of. So he just tries not to overthink it. She comes to his bed; and has done it every single night since that big feast, when he got absurdly drunk and brave. 

His left hand grips the wooden chair a little harder. He closes his eyes for a second, suddenly remembering Brienne, when she got on her knees, told him not to look and did some very, very daring things to him. 

And suddenly, a knock, that rips him out of the pleasant, warm memories. A light, rather silent knock at his chambers' door. He clears his throat, still a little light-headed.

\- Yes? Come in.

The door creaks open, and he's surprised to see who came to visit him. In a reflex, he stands up quickly from his chair. The redhead closes the door behind her, a little hesitantly, and looks at Jaime with a look he cannot decipher.

\- Lady Stark...? - He says, not sure how to react. The last time he actually interacted with her was when he first came to this gloomy place and awaited for the Dragon queen to behead him. And yet, one tall knight asked, and he stayed.

\- May I come in, Ser Jaime? I know it's late...

\- No, no, please, Lady Stark. Have a seat. - He grabs his chair and pushes it towards her and straightens the furs over it. He still feels uncomfortable and guilty in her presence, gods know it. He grabs a stool from the side and pulls it up next to the chair. 

Lady Stark approaches him slowly. She's holding some kind of a package, wrapped in a linen cloth; it looks soft, but is also pretty big. She sits in the chair elegantly, straightens her black skirts and places the soft thing on her knees. She clasps her two hands over it and swallows, and then looks up at him and nods with a small, somewhat forced smile. And so he sits on the stool, confused and stiff.

\- Is there something wrong, Lady Stark?... Can I assist you somewhat?... - He asks, trying to sound as normal as possible. She smiles again and looks down, shaking her head gently.

\- No, Ser Jaime, everything is well. I came because I have to talk to you about something. And... I bring a gift. - She says the last sentence hesitantly, pausing for a moment and shifting in the chair a bit. He furrows his brows, for he doesn't understand any of it.

\- A... gift? For me? Forgive me, Lady Sansa, I...

\- It's alright. I'm gonna explain. - she rises up her hand, and so he goes quiet. - Just let me collect my thoughts. Do you... happen to have something to drink here? Wine, perhaps?

Jaime stands up quickly and gets the wine and two silver goblets from his nightstand. He pours one for the Lady, hands it to her, pours one for himself and sits down again.

\- Thank you. - She sips from the goblet and looks at the fire. Pretty girl, Jaime thinks. She was a pretty girl back then, during her stay at King's Landing; even though always so sad, and face red from tears. He couldn't look her in the eye back then. But she's even prettier now; her cheekbones more prominent, red hair braided in the northern style, skin pale like a birch tree. Jaime suddenly feels something bad and uncomfortable in his belly - the girl looks exactly like her mother. The same woman he mocked and hated and that set him free, and then was slaughtered at his family's command. 

Sansa speaks again, and he finds it hard to look at her, again.

\- So, are you enjoying your...

\- Forgive me again, Lady, I need to say something first - he hears himself say, with a ragged voice. She's surprised, interrupted and stares at him wide-eyed. He feels heat crawling up his neck. - I apologize for my rudeness. I just... - He closes his eyes, searching for words. - I want to apologize, Lady. For everything. 

Sansa closes her eyes too, and worry shows on her young face. But she doesn't speak a word.

\- I am sorry about Joff... - she shudders a but. - I am sorry about my family... I know my apologies are useless and won't fix anything. I wish they could... I really do. I just... I don't know what to say. You didn't deserve...

\- Enough. - her small, but stern voice brings him back. She's looking at him now, eyes full of suffering. - Thank you, ser Jaime. I believe you're a changed man now. You prove yourself in the battle. Your family is evil and rotten to the core, but you're forgiven here. And you should thank Lady Brienne for that.

Jaime draws a sharp breath at the sound of her name. Yes, he should, and he thanked her so many times, in so many ways, and yet it's still not enough. They should've killed him on the spot, he should've got what was coming for him, for all the evil things he did. And yet, these strange people chose to let him stay.

\- I... yes, Lady Stark. You're right. I owe you and Lady Brienne my life. I shouldn't have interrupted you. My emotions got the better of me.

\- I understand. And thank you, again. All is forgiven. Joff is dead, and so is Ramsay, and all the people that hurt me, and my family. Rightfully so. - He looks up at her, and she suddenly looks a bit cold, and dangerous. 

\- So... back to where I was. Are you enjoying your stay at Winterfell?

\- Yes. Yes, of course. It's more than I could ask for.

\- Good. And is everything good betwen you and Lady Brienne? - she asks, lifting her chin up a bit. Her tone is a bit threatening suddenly, and he feels like a small animal caught in a trap. He's sweating a bit now. Is Sansa angry with him? Is she angry that he took Brienne to bed? He should've predicted it, of course... He definitely should have... he dishonored a noble lady, and he keeps doing it and rubbing it in everyone's face, like the idiot he is...

\- Why... why, yes. Yes, very... good? She's my friend, and I trust her very much. - He says, trying to sound innocent. Like a stupid, young boy. Sansa scoffs, and rolls her eyes, which shocks him.

\- Ser Jaime. Forgive me, but let's not pretend this is something it truly isn't. You and Brienne are together, or am I mistaken? - She lifts her eyebrows a bit and waits for an answer. He swallows, and his throat is very dry.

\- Umm... I... I love... - he is touching his face now, picking at something. He straightens up, trying to regain the last bit of his dignity. - I love her. And I can only hope she returns the sentiment. We, umm... we are... we live as a man and a woman... - and now he's rambling again, sounding like a fool. Sansa's cheek twitches a bit.

\- Well, ser Jaime... the whole castle knows, for sure. - She wiggles in her chair a bit, looking to the side. Her mouth is pressed into a tight line now, just like her mother's used to be when she spoke to him, ages and ages ago. - Everyone is whispering among themselves about you two. - She pauses for a moment, thinking about something. - But that's okay. - He looks at her, surprised. - I am happy Brienne is happy. She is like a sister to me. If you... _you_ are her happiness, then I accept it. Her judgement is always right. If _she_ sees honour in you, then honour _is_ within you. 

Jaime doesn't know what to say, and doesn't understand why the Stark daughter is suddenly sweet-talking to him about the fact that her sworn knight-lady is his lover now. So he just waits for whatever's coming next.

\- That being said... I am concerned about _Brienne's_ honour, too.

Oh no. So it is about that, after all. Will she tell him to leave Brienne? To let her find a true, noble husband? Did Brienne confess to Sansa? Does Brienne feel dishonoured by him?

\- What about it, Lady Stark? - he says, rather defensive, but surprisingly, Sansa's gaze is softer now.

\- Nothing in particular, ser Jaime. I just want everything best for her. She deserves it, you and me both know that very well. So... I have a gift. But. I have to ask something, before I give it to you.

\- Y...yes?

Her gaze is intense now, and Jaime feels like a direwolf is standing in front of him, wondering whether to eat him now, or later.

\- Is she truly your lady? Are you truly her man?

Jaime is very confused now, and wishes he could jump out of the window now, right into the bloody snow.

\- Yes? Yes, of course, why? She's everything to me.

\- No, ser Jaime. I need to know. Is this... just something you're gonna abandon? Is it just a phase, an infatuation?

\- Gods, what? No... no, why would you say that? - Jaime is very defensive now, and frankly, feels pretty offended. Brienne asks him whether he isn't going to leave in the dead of the night every day, and that alone is enough for him. He doesn't want anyone else questioning his loyalty. Having to reassure worried Brienne every day is enough of atonement for his sins already. - I am decided, Lady Stark. Brienne it is. Now and forever.

His word echo a bit and there's silence between them for a moment. He's surprised how serious his words sounded, and is even taken aback a bit; but he knows it's true. It is. He's tired of Cersei, battles, oaths, fights, and swords. He truly just want to grow old with Brienne at his side and that's it.

Sansa's gaze softens again.

\- So she told me. She says you're the one and that she has loved you for a very long time. I need you to respect that, Ser Jaime...

\- I do, and I will, I swear...

\- So promise me something. I need you to promise, for Brienne.

He's tired. What oath does she demand of him now? Why can't everyone leave him alone already, and stop asking him for oaths and promises?

\- Yes, Lady Stark?...

\- I need you to promise me that if I take you and Brienne to Godswood, and ask you if you want to take her as your wife, that you say yes. And that you stay loyal and protect her until your last breath.

He stares at her, wide eyed now. Did she just say what he heard? Sansa suddenly grabs his left hand, with her small, delicate one. He's completely dumbfounded. 

\- Promise me, Ser Jaime. Promise me. Take her as your wife, and protect her.

\- W...wha... - He shakes his head in disbelief. All this time, and he never even thought of asking Brienne for her hand. He's just old and tired and loves her and she loves him, and that's enough for him. He simply forgot about such formalities; and he even feels a bit unworthy of asking Brienne such thing. 

But she is worthy of it for sure... 

She deserves it, Jaime thinks. She's a noble lady after all and deserves a true, loyal man, not some crippled sinner that just takes, and takes, and doesn't give anything in return. Sansa squeezes his hand a bit, and it gives him reassurance.

So fuck it, Jaime thinks. 

\- Alright. Yes, it will be my honour. I will do it. I will ask Brienne to wed me. Today?

Sansa suddenly smiles, and she looks painfully young. Something tugs at his old, broken heart, when she takes her hand away and lets out a small, girly laugh.

\- Today. Give her until tomorrow to prepare for the oaths. But ask her today. Let's not wait anymore.

He nods and leans back, but Sansa doesn't leave. Not yet. He feels she still has something to say. She has a determined gaze now, and squeezes the package on her knees.

\- So, now that you made a promise - she emphasizes the last word, and Jaime smiles reassuringly - I have something for you. I made it on my own. - She looks at it and a streak of red hair fails of her face, and she tugs it behind her ear. - I don't know if you're aware, but I sew and knit a lot.

\- Yes, I think Brienne mentioned. Is the dress you're wearing now also your creation?

Sansa laugh and blushes a bit, which makes him smile again.

\- Yes, yes it is. Do you like it?

\- Well... It's different than what ladies wear in the south, but I like it. Looks like an armor, almost.

Sansa smiles and raises her eyebrows. She fastens a silver clip at her waist and looks pretty proud of herself. _Ah, women_ , Jaime thinks. Too pure for this cruel world.

\- Thank you, ser. So, I pieced together something for you as well.

Jaime looks at her, very surprised. Did Sansa Stark make him a shirt or a pair of breeches? For what reason?

\- It took me some time to convince our blacksmith to help me... and I just couldn't decide on the fabric, ah. But I think it's as good as it's gonna be... here. - She gives him the package, and he senses her nervous excitement.

He furrows his brows and tugs at the string, untying the linen package. He then grabs the material with his left fand, and unfolds it.

He feels his heart squeeze.

Inside the package lies a precisely folded rectangle of thick, soft cloth. The cloth is crimson red, red like blood, and there are two golden, metal lion heads sticking out of both sides of the folded piece. And on the red cloth, right in front of him, is a roaring lion, carefully sewn into the material with a golden thread. And on the sides of the lions mane, two silver moons, facing each other. 

His lips tremble, and there's a weird sensation where his right hand once was. Almost like he wants to clench his fist.

He looks up to Sansa again, that has been watching him carefully, with a hopeful face.

\- Lady Sansa, I... - he swallows the word and goes silent again. There's something heavy in his throat suddenly.

\- Do you like it? Here, unfold it... - she reaches forwards, grabs the cloak and shows him the shoulder pieces, decorated with heavy metal and small chains. They make a small, sweet sound as she turns the cloak around. - Not gonna lie, I never thought I would find myself making a _Lannister_ sigil of all... But I think it turned out nice... And I added the moons, for Brienne - she points to the silver symbols with her long, delicate finger, and her eyes study her own work like she's still looking for something to improve.

Jaime suddenly feels very old and somewhat guilty. He doesn't deserve any of this. He finally attempts to speak again.

\- Is... is this a cloak for the bride? - He asks in a very small voice, feeling strange. The pureness and innocence of it all is very unfamiliar to him.

\- Yes! You may now cloak the bride! - She laughs, and her laugh sounds almost like a child's. Jaime is devastated. She must have spent hours upon hours making this, she convinced the grumpy Stark blacksmith to make golden lion's heads, here, in Winterfell, of all the places... but the girl herself never even had a true wedding of her own. The circus that his rotten family imposed on her and his brother really didn't count, and the Boltons... gods. How could she bring herself to make such thing for him?...

\- Say something? Anything, Ser Jaime?

Now it's Jaime reaching out to her. He takes her small hand and her skin is surprisingly cold, but dry. The girl smells sweet, and the fire is dancing in her eyes. Eyes he once mocked and betrayed in another life.

\- I don't know what to say, Lady... it's beautiful. I'm not worthy of your hard work.

She rolls her eyes. 

\- It's for Brienne. - Now Jaime is laughing, and squeezes her hand a bit. There's another short pause, where he's studying her small hand in his own. She has a sturdy, heavy ring on her index finger; one with a direwolf's head. After all these years, the wolf came to the lion again, but this time it's not judging. 

Maybe there is hope after all, he thinks. Maybe I can have a normal life. There still might be a chance.

\- Right. For Brienne. 

And in this moment he feels young and hopeful again, and this time he's taking his oaths very seriously.


End file.
